


Replete

by Laylah



Series: Multiply [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Come Inflation, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, First Time, Post-Game, Restored Earth, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're so soft," he says. "I mean—I'm not trying to say you're weak, that's—that's the last thing I'd pity you for, I just. Fuck."</p><p>You nuzzle his cheek, breathing in deep. Everything he says makes you want to just squish him and pet his silly head, and everything about how he feels and smells makes you want to rip his clothes off. "Let's," you say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Replete

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for how PWP this came out. There is a lot of setup and worldbuilding in my head that accompanies this (and a fairly large portion of it is sketchy), but I've been having so much trouble writing lately that I figured I'd just run with the part that would come easily. So to speak.
> 
> Endless thanks to universe_c, who let me send them completely unfocused ramblings about my ideas and, in turn, sent back lots of thoughtful ideas about the world, biology, and social dynamics that would go into the mess I wanted to make. Almost none of that is visible here but it's supporting architecture that kept me going.

"You don't get it, Harley," Karkat is complaining as you hike up the path to the nicest picnic spot on your island. "Something is _really wrong_ with this picture."

"Nope," you say cheerfully. The two of you have claimed this afternoon to get away from the rest of the group, and you are determined to enjoy it. "I am completely unconvinced. A staggering lack of things going wrong is in fact the _opposite_ of something being really wrong." He opens his mouth to keep arguing and you hop over a rock in the path, marching steadfastly on. "Not listening! Don't buy it."

He strides after you, effortlessly dodging the swing of your picnic basket as he catches up. "My luck doesn't _do_ this," he says. Trust Karkat to get mad about things going right.

"It does now," you say. "You guys won your game in the end, right? And Earth was supposed to be the prize you got in the first place. Of course everyone's happier now. What kind of prize world would it be if it made you miserable?"

Karkat snorts. "If it wanted to be a prize for me—" He looks away really fast. "Never mind."

"Oh no you don't," you say, and this time you're the one following him. "You spit it out, mister." You have a pretty good idea where that was going—you got plenty of experience with _meaningful incomplete statements_ with Davesprite—but fuck this you're going to make him say it.

Karkat walks faster. "Let it go, Harley," he snaps, and you almost would, because he doesn't sound happy at all, but you don't think leaving him alone to mope is really likely to make him _less_ cranky, and you... you're tired of the besieged look he wears around everywhere. "It's stupid wiggler bullshit, okay? And I know that by now! I'm coping with it. I don't need you sticking your blunt human snout in my—"

And then you trip over a root before you can find out what part of Karkat you're supposedly sticking your blunt human snout in, and you stumble into him and both of you get knocked to the sandy path with a huff. Karkat somehow managed to get turned around while falling—probably a really useful defensive maneuver, you figure—and he's looking up at you now, frozen, eyes wide. He's warm and solid and strange under you. This moment, you know this moment, this is the kind of thing that happened in half of John's awful movies (the half that weren't about stuff blowing up). Something smells musky and spicy in a way that makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck. Karkat glances down at your mouth and then back up at your eyes.

"Harley," he says, quietly now, with a low burr in his voice that you've never heard before and wish you had. From the way he looks at you, you think he's watched the same kind of movies.

You lean in just a little, tilting your head so your hair will fall mostly to one side. Karkat reaches up and threads his fingers into it. His hand shakes and his touch makes you feel like you're made of butterflies and the butterflies are made of light. His thumb brushes your cheekbone. He so has watched all those movies, and you can't decide if that's sweet or dumb, so you just close your eyes, letting your mouth soften.

He kisses you. The butterflies are actually made of fireworks. He's a little clumsy, a little hesitant, and it doesn't even matter. Your body feels flushed and tingling all over, signals rocketing back and forth along excited nerves so you feel extra alive. When he slips his tongue into your mouth—oh, he _tastes_ like that delicious musky spice, fuck—you make an entirely involuntary little whimper and clutch at his shirt.

Karkat pulls back, his eyes wide, his lips wet. "You really mean it," he says. "You really want to—you're not just, fuck, I don't know, humoring me—"

You shake your head. "If you stop touching me, I'll—" You don't even know. You're trying to think of a good threat, and before you come up with one he's kissing you again and the problem is moot. You push your hands up under his shirt and his skin is super-smooth, like you imagine a seal's would be, and his back arches, pushing him into you harder. Then he writhes, this rippling twist of muscle, and flips you onto your back. He's a solid weight above you, hot between your thighs, making this quiet and super-sexy growl as he kisses you. Your pussy throbs—wow, hi, hormones, how are _you_ doing today?

Karkat sits back enough to look at you, and that puts his weight right on your crotch. A burst of hot wetness between your legs makes you whimper and squirm against him. His pupils dilate. That's hot as fuck, so you squirm a little harder.

"Fucking hell, Harley," he says, and the growling undertone in his voice is getting thicker, making all the hair on the nape of your neck prickle.

"I can't help it," you say, which is maybe a little too true to be comfortable. Your hands slip under his shirt again and you cling to the waistband of his jeans. "If I'd known it would feel like this I would have tripped and fallen on you ages ago!"

He swallows hard. "We're not—I'm not doing this rolling around in the dirt in the middle of nowhere like an asshole," he says.

"How about up at the picnic spot?" you ask. "Picnics are totally romantic."

This little ripple of tension runs through him like he's about to pounce on you again and trying to stop himself. "Deal," Karkat says.

You scramble to your feet without entirely letting go of each other. Karkat grabs the picnic basket in his free hand and you lead the way, not quite running but only because he doesn't know the path very well yet and you don't want him to fall. 

The picnic spot is this pretty overlook on top of a bluff, where there's a really nice view of the ocean and some weird fruit trees that give shade in the hottest part of the day. Right now you don't think either of you are paying attention to the view. You drop the basket under a tree and then you both freeze for a second as you realize that yeah, you'll probably have to let go of each other to spread out the blanket.

"This is ridiculous," Karkat says. You nod. It takes another ten seconds before you can let go of his hand.

You spread out the picnic blanket as a team effort and then he reaches for you, and you almost knock him over again in your hurry to get back in kissing range. He tastes wonderful. The two of you melt down onto the blanket in slow motion and you could probably spend all afternoon just making out except that he gets a hand under your shirt and you realize how much more awesome it would be if he could be touching more of you.

You pull your shirt off and toss it in the general direction of the picnic basket. Karkat runs a callused hand up your side, staring at you super intently.

"You're so soft," he says. "I mean—I'm not trying to say you're weak, that's—that's the last thing I'd pity you for, I just. Fuck."

You nuzzle his cheek, breathing in deep. Everything he says makes you want to just squish him and pet his silly head, and everything about how he feels and smells makes you want to rip his clothes off. "Let's," you say.

"What?"

"Fuck," you clarify. "Let's fuck, Karkat."

"Oh my _god_ ," he says. The delicious smell of him flares up in a hot rush strong enough to make you dizzy. "It's—we're safe here? You're sure?" You barely catch the last few words because he's pulling his shirt off.

"I'm sure," you say, staring because you can. His skin is stone gray with barely any variation, except for the thick dark plate things on his sides. His muscles are defined but sort of... confusing to look at, not quite normal. Definitely awesome, though. His hands hover over the button of his jeans.

"Go on," you say helpfully. "Pretty sure this operation requires access to your junk!"

He makes a really great face. "You are completely fucking ridiculous, Harley. Licking-the-psychedelic-frogs out of your pan. Besides, I could say the same to you." He shuffles backward on his knees so you'll have some room, and you already miss the heat and weight of having him pressed against you, but that just means you should hurry up and get naked, doesn't it?

You unbutton your skirt and hook your thumbs under the waistband of your panties, pushing them both down at once. Karkat is squirming his way out of his jeans and you sort of crane your head to get a look at what he's got there, which you sort of hope won't be just a palette-swapped dick because come on, _aliens_ , and—

Wow, yup, definitely alien junk there. Karkat's stuff is set more forward than yours, a vivid red slit below a curling, slick black tentacle. _Neat_.

"You... do really want to do this?" he says, looking down at your crotch. "It's just, you know, if you were a troll I'd expect your bulge to be at least partly unsheathed by now," and he sort of gestures at his like he's demonstrating. It squirms. You wonder what that squirming would feel like inside you, and there's a little rush of heat all over your skin.

"I promise, if I had one it would be totally ready to wrestle yours into submission," you say, and Karkat makes a noise that's half croak and half peep. You spread your legs further, heels braced on the blanket. "Come here. You're not touching me anymore and that's dumb."

He comes here. Having his skin against yours feels fantastic, makes you feel this giddy combination of excitement and relief. You arch up against him to show him how nice it is, and put one of his hands on your boob. He pinches your nipple and you whine, your head thrown back, shuddering all over. Karkat growls, his teeth scraping your throat just slightly, and your pussy aches. 

You wrap one leg around his waist and his bulge coils up against your skin, squirming along your inner thigh and then rubbing your pussy. Your breath hitches as it slides over your clit, and then the tip pushes into you and you're chanting, "Yes, yes yes." The tip is really thin, but it gets thicker as more of it works its way in, stretching you out around it. Karkat keeps making chirpy little purring noises, shuddering on top of you as his bulge twists and pushes. He's moving slowly but it still feels like he just keeps _going_ , like he's huge, like he's going deeper than you thought was possible.

Then he touches something deep inside you, deeper than you've ever been able to get with your fingers, and it feels _amazing_ and you clench down around him. "Oh fuck," Karkat says. "Oh god, oh fuck." He sits up, pulling you with him so you're straddling his lap. His eyes are squeezed shut and his eyelashes are wet.

You brush at the wetness gently. "Don't cry, silly, it's okay. Everything's—oh—mmn," and that's it, you're done talking for now—Karkat's bulge pulses inside you, a burst of liquid heat that makes pleasure radiate outward from your core. A second later you realize that he's coming, and a second after that you realize you want him to never stop. You feel wonderful, giddy and loose-limbed, not tense like you're trying to get off but blissed out like you already have. Except not oversensitive, just—just wow. You hide your face against the side of Karkat's neck and just ride him, shivering and sighing.

"God, whatever you're doing right now, don't stop," he says, and you nod even though you're not doing anything, are you? Is some of that rhythmic thrumming _you_ and not him? He's still coming, slow and steady—trolls must not do it in one big bang like humans do. That makes sense, though, if they need to come up with enough to fill a bucket.

"Oh my god," you say, heat washing over your skin. "You're going to come a whole bucketful in me."

Karkat makes a sound like _jjgdk_ and his bulge thrashes inside you. "Harley, you freak," he says, clinging tighter.

"What? It's true, isn't it?"

He shakes his head. "It's just—one minute you're so fucking tender it's almost pale, and the next minute you're saying something so filthy it belongs in a quadrant flipping porno."

You boop his nose. Everything just feels so good right now! "Better get used to it, fuckass! Real-life people are complicated."

Karkat actually laughs—he has an adorable laugh, holy crap—and then he's kissing you again, little glancing delicate kisses across your cheeks and your mouth. You kiss back, giggling, so pleased to have him here with you and happy and making you feel good. He's purring, and his bulge is pulsing in your pussy, and his hands are running through your hair.

Then he hugs you to him really tight, so you can feel all the muscles in his arms and chest. "Yes," he growls in your ear, "I'm going to pump a whole pail full of slurry up your nook," and even with the silly troll word that's _hot_. You squeeze down around him and he moans.

It feels like it's not even spilling back out of you—you just keep getting fuller, taking more of him in. "Feels good," you tell him, rocking in his lap, his come shifting inside you. You bet you can make him do the amazing noises again. "I want it all, want you to fill me up completely," and yep, that did it—Karkat whimpers, holding onto you so tight that you feel the tips of his claws.

"Fuck," he gasps, "fuck, you're perfect, gonna—gonna s-suck me dry like that," and he's blushing so hard and it's so cute and you like him so much.

You take one of his hands and press it to your lower belly, where you can feel his heat gathering and filling you. "Can you feel that?" you ask, nuzzling at his ear. "How full I'm getting?" You can't tell if you're imagining it or if you really are starting to get stretched, the skin tighter with the pressure. Karkat makes a desperate, choked sound, and when he presses his hand against you it _definitely_ feels different.

He kisses his way up the line of your throat, and you shiver. "Can I—fuck, is there—I don't know how humans work, is this enough for you?"

Can you come when you're this full? Do you _want_ to, when you already feel this good? You slide Karkat's hand down a little further and press his thumb between your labia. "Right there," you say breathlessly, "just rub gently, right there."

Holy crap, yes, you're definitely going to be able to come like this. As soon as Karkat starts rubbing your clit you realize you're like three-quarters of the way there already, and getting the rest of the way is going to be a breeze. Everything south of your waist feels amazing, the growing pressure from inside as Karkat pumps more come into you, the sparking tension radiating out from your clit. You're just this giddy mess of feelings and all of them are good. You hold on tight to Karkat and squeeze his bulge inside you like you could swallow everything he's got, and your skin prickles all over with anticipation, shivery hot. Karkat's cursing raggedly and you're not even that coherent, panting and whimpering. The tension builds smoothly and steadily, gives you plenty of time to see the climax coming, and when it hits you it's still overwhelming. You just—you come apart at the seams, shaking and sobbing, and for a minute it's like the entire world is light.

When you recover enough to open your eyes, Karkat is giving you this completely smitten stare. "Holy fuck," he says, and you start giggling. He smiles back, sweet and dorky.

He's not moving inside you anymore, either. You put a hand to your belly. "Did that finish you off too?"

He nods. "Yeah, I'm done for a while. That was a hell of a lot of material you just milked out of me at once."

You get a sexy little shudder down your spine at that, even though you feel like you're pretty done for, too. "Good thing we brought lunch," you say. You slide out of Karkat's lap and flop across the blanket happily. The sun is warm on your skin, the breeze feels great, and you are so seriously fucked in the best way. Your legs probably don't work. You're not even really leaking—you would have thought Karkat's slurry would drip back out again after he pulled out, but instead it seems content to just stay put, a little heavy feeling of satisfied fullness like you get after a good meal.

Except not exactly, because you're starving. You poke Karkat in the thigh. "Food," you say. "Food now."

"Your manners would shame a fucking cholerbear," Karkat says, but comfortably, and he crawls over to retrieve the picnic basket. You watch him, happy that he doesn't seem to want to put his clothes back on either. He's nice to look at.

"You're nice to look at," you inform him. 

He ducks his head. "There's something hideously wrong with your eyesight." He's blushing again. He pulls some sandwiches out of the basket and then hands you a bottle of juice. "Does sex always make you stupid?"

"Don't know," you say, pushing yourself up to sitting so you can take a drink. "This is my first data point with someone else involved."

Karkat blinks at you a few times, making a goofy surprised-fish face. "Mine too," he mumbles eventually.

"Awesome," you say.

You both attack the sandwiches pretty fiercely, and then the mangos, and then the cookies. You've seriously worked up an appetite! It feels great, though. You're tired but super happy, and you're still really aware of the way you're carrying his come. You can feel where it rests in you, and you're pretty sure that adding more would make it feel even nicer.

After you've eaten, you lie back down on the blanket just basking in the beautiful day. Karkat snuggles up behind you, one arm around your waist, and purrs softly into your hair. For a while you just drowse like that. You're not sure how long it's been when his bulge squirms up between your legs, but you slide them apart just a little. Looks like you'll get to find out if more would make it better after all.

You're too tired to really do much this time, but you don't need to—you can both just lie there, relaxed and comfortable, while his bulge works its way back into you. When it's all the way in it pulses, pumping more come into you in steady, slow waves, filling you up. You lie there, your fingers laced with Karkat's, your belly heavy with the warm weight of his come, and for the first time in ages you feel completely content.

**Author's Note:**

> I am posting this as a one-shot for now (see above re: trouble writing) but it's definitely part of a larger thing in my head. If you were thinking "wow, Jade sure got enthusiastic about that in a hurry" as you were reading, that's deliberate; if I can scrape together enough writing stamina/concentration to expand this, that will definitely get explored further. Ditto the biological weirdness of a human retaining slurry.


End file.
